Half Moon
by sighingstories
Summary: 1969. Molly Hooper has been chosen by Mycroft Holmes as a live-in nurse for his little brother, Sherlock, who struggles with a drug addiction. She wasn't supposed to develop feelings. However, neither was he. Hippie!Sherlolly AU. Heavy drug warning!
1. Leaving on a Jet Plane

_1969\. America. Sherlolly AU._

_Story Title taken from the song "Half Moon" by Janis Joplin. I don't own anything; all rights to Moftiss and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle._

_Sorry if this is super rough, I haven't written a fic in YEARS. Please review!_

Chapter 1

Molly Hooper desperately needed a job. The idea of being a housewife and wasting her life away being stuck at home cleaning, made her physically sick. So obviously, when her cousin's best mate offered her a job with the government, she left her boyfriend, Tom. Although she felt bad about leaving him, he would get over it soon. Tom wanted a woman that he could manipulate and control, and Molly Hooper was nothing of the sort.

She knew very little about her job other than where she was going: a place called California on the west coast of the United States. Molly was excited, to say the least. Not only was she leaving behind her boring life, but she was getting to see a whole different part of the world. Sure, it may not have been some exotic country, but it was different. And that's all that mattered to Molly.

Molly nervously boarded the government plane at 11:00 pm. She sat in one of the twelve seats on the private jet and admired the fancy interior. As she began to get settled, a tall, thin man strutted onto the plane. _Is he a colleague of mine?_ Molly asked herself, concerned. The man was dressed very well: a black suit and a red tie, while Molly simply wore favorite jumper (a light knit-perfect for London summers) and an old pair of bell-bottoms that she had sewn patches on. She knew that it would be a long flight, and wanted to be comfortable. _Maybe I should've dressed better._ The man looked straight at her with what could only be described as a condescending smile. He stuck out his left hand for her to shake, as his right was holding a black umbrella. She reached out to take his hand and he spoke, startling her.

"You may wipe the confusion from your face, Miss Hooper. I will explain all you need to know when you wake. But first, why don't you get some sleep? It's late and you must be exhausted. Mycroft Holmes, by the way. Your employer."

Molly nodded with wide eyes and wondered how she was supposed to sleep with a strange man, employer or not, sitting near her.

She did not wonder that for long, however, as sleep soon grasped a hold of her. When Molly woke, it was to the feeling of the plane flying very roughly through the sky. Her eyes jolted open and her body became stick straight. This was Molly's first time on an airplane, and she felt like this was definitely not right. She looked over at Mycroft, who was gazing back at her in a very amused fashion.

"Just a bit of turbulence, Miss Hooper. I know you've never flown, but surely you know of turbulence?" Mycroft asked her, his voice taking on a soft tone that did not match his face.

_He think's I'm unintelligent!_ Molly thought, horrified. But as soon as she did, Mycroft's voice rang through the cabin again.

"No, Miss Hooper, I think you are scared. Is that not what most people find comforting? Softer vocals?"

He raised his eyebrow at her, quizzingly.

"How did you-" Molly didn't get a chance to finish her question though, as Mycroft spoke again.

"You are very easy to read. That is why I have chosen you for this job. You will be able to be trusted."

Before Molly could speak another word, Mycroft bellowed an unexcited, "And now, Miss Hooper, for your job description."

Molly looked at Mycroft intently, ready to listen.

"You, Miss Hooper, the lucky woman that you are, will be looking after my younger brother."

Molly quickly became outraged. "Mr. Holmes, sir, you.. I'm.. I'm not a babysitter! I am a registered nurse!"

Mycroft shushed her with a raise of his hand. "And now, Miss Hooper, you will be a private nurse of sorts for my younger brother, who incidentally, is four years your senior. Now, if you would be so kind to let me continue?"

Embarrassed, Molly nodded.

"My brother, Sherlock, has a bit of an addiction. Well, I say a bit, but it's become quite bad. We moved him out to North America as a way to keep him away from the scrutinizing eye of the public, but he has seemed to get worse. You see, he moves from camp to camp full of hippies-" Mycroft took a second to visibly shudder, then continued, "and uses quite a lot of drugs."

Molly nodded, understanding the severity. One of her brothers used to use heroin until just the year before.

"So, I'm to help him clear his system then?" Molly asked.

"Clear his system and keep it clear, Miss Hooper. I have a house purchased, very nice little place. You and he will stay there. I know it may look quite scandalous, but it is necessary."

Molly thought for a moment and then spoke. "How long has he been in California? How long has he been recovering?" She asked.

"In California? Seven Months. Recovering? Zero. You see, Miss Hooper, the last three women I chose for the job, and the one man, could not handle my dearest brother."

Molly became very concerned and asked Mycroft, in a small voice, "Then why would I be able to?"

Mycroft smiled. "Because Miss hooper, you were offered a private government job and turned it down until you were told it was to help people. You want to help. Plus, you won't be able to lie to my brother, which will hopefully work out in our favor."

Molly swallowed and her mouth went dry. For the first time since she took it, Molly Hooper was regretting her new job. And she hadn't even started yet.


	2. Going to California

If I owned Sherlock, would I be writing fanfiction? No. There you have it. All rights (except for my storyline, of course) go to BBC and Moftiss. Especially the rights to the line I stole from the show ;) sorry this was so long in the making and that it's horribly written, I've been so busy lately! Chapter title taken from the Zeppelin song, of course.

Chapter Two

Although the plane had landed an hour ago and she was safely in the back of a car, Molly was still shaking. _I will never, ever step onto another airplane as long as I live, _she thought to herself. _When I finish here, I will take a bloody boat back home. _

"Miss Hooper, we will be arriving at the home I have purchased for my brother in about seven minutes," Mycroft said, his voice putting the brakes on her train of thought. She was nervous about meeting this man, to say the least. Sure, her job was to take care of him and to rid his life of drug abuse, but she was still going to be sharing a home with him. _Sharing a home with a man that I haven't even met! _Molly thought, wondering how far she would make it if she ran as soon as the car stopped. _No, _she thought, _this will be good. A new start, and certainly not a boring one at that. _Mycroft most have noticed the shift in her posture and demeanor, as he looked at her with a smile in his eyes.

"Does he know we'll be showing up there, your brother?" she asked, influenced by the wave of confidence crashing over her.

"Oh, I suppose he does," Mycroft said, a mischievous tone to his voice. "I tend to fly out some of Scotland Yard's best every so often, just to bring him back from whatever filthy hippie camp he's settled into." With the end of his sentence, Mycroft sighed. Molly looked out the car window as she felt the car slow and take a turn onto a winding driveway. She couldn't yet see the house, but marveled at the beauty of the sunlight filtering through the large amount of trees on the property.

"Ah, here we are," Mycroft said, seeming even more tense than he had a moment ago. Molly could tell that he cared for his brother, but it must be hard for him. She would do her best to help Sherlock reach sobriety. _Sherlock, _she let the name float in her mind until they reached the house. Wherever that thought was going, it was lost now. The home was very modern and minimalistic, which seemed to be Mycroft's style. The architecture was crisp and clean, just like Mycroft's suit and personality. Something about the home seemed unsettling though, it was cold and looked as if no one lived there. The driver came around and let Mycroft out of the car before sauntering around and opening Molly's door for her. She started to say her thanks, but Mycroft cut her off.

"Grab Miss Hooper's bags and take them to the bedroom on the left side of the hall. As soon as you're done with that, come back and start the car. I do not wish to linger in this place more than I have to."

The driver gave a curt nod and grabbed Molly's bag from the trunk. Mycroft then turned towards her. "Let's introduce you to my baby brother, Miss Hooper." With those words, he led her into the home.

They stepped into a foyer that led openly into a living room area. A couch faced a wall of windows that overlooked the woods outside. The inside of the house was much like the outside: cold and unlived in. _If nothing else, _Molly thought, _if I fail at my job, I will leave this house decorated and warm._ But once again, as though it were a pattern, her train of thought had been stopped in its tracks.

"Hello Mycroft, come to sic another one of your doctors on me? Or another nanny to watch me like a hawk? Oh, how I love it when you bring me new toys to break!" she heard a deep voice sneer from the couch. She couldn't see the man and therefore assumed he was in a hunched-over sitting position.

Mycroft's voice sounded tired as he introduced them. "Miss Hooper, please meet my brother, who you will be looking after. He is, as you may have noticed, not very polite although I promise that mummy did not raise him to be as such." With these words, Sherlock jumped from the couch with what could've only been described as growl. He stomped towards Mycroft until their faces were basically touching. With a crazed look in his eyes, he grabbed Mycroft's arm, twisted it behind his back, and pushed him face-first up against the door. "Brother mine, **don't appall me when I'm high**," he breathed and then released Mycroft. Molly stood there, terrified and stunned.

Sherlock didn't turn around to face Molly, but addressed her anyway.

"Don't worry, Miss Hooper, I will not hurt you. Although I will offer you a large sum of money to leave now. Or should I say I would, but I know you will not take it," with this, Sherlock turned towards her. His eyes searched hers and he whispered, so quietly that Molly almost didn't hear, "what are you running from?" Molly was taken aback and when she turned to look at Mycroft, she noticed that he was gone.

"Go change your clothes. A dress or a skirt. Something loose and flowing. We're going out," Sherlock said, catching Molly's attention once again.

"Out? Oh, no Mr. Holmes. We are staying here. I am going to do my job. You will not be leaving, and therefore neither will I. Plus, we have no means of going anywhere, your brother took the car with him back to the airport," Molly said, assuming that Sherlock was just in a drug-addled delusion. She thought on her own words for a moment, wondering how she was supposed to get groceries and the like with no car. Sherlock spoke again, as though he was answering her question.

"No, there is a car in the garage and I noticed my brother's driver slip the keys into your bag as he came inside. Now, go change. I'm going to show you what I do."

For some reason, Molly did as he told her to. She didn't question him, or wonder. For some reason she trusted him. And she knew how dangerous that was going to be.

Molly came out about ten minutes later in a floor length skirt and a crocheted top that her mother had made for her on her last birthday. She held the car keys in her hand and took in the fact that Sherlock had changed too. He wore light-washed elephant-ear jeans and a gauzy brown tunic. _He's so attractive, _Molly thought, and with that he took the keys and walked to the garage with Molly trailing behind.

"What do you do?" Molly asked, a little afraid to know.

"I help a nearby commune. Figure out who is committing hate crimes against them or who has been stealing their crops," He replied, backing down the long driveway.

"And they pay me," he added on.

"So is that how you get the money for your drugs?" She asked, knowing from Mycroft that he had no other 'job' than this.

"No," Sherlock stated, hesitantly, "they pay me **in** drugs." He finished.

"Turn the car around." Molly demanded. "You are not doing any more drugs. Not on my watch."

"Then don't watch," he said, sounding a mix of angry and annoyed.

"It's my job," Molly replied. "And I plan on doing it."

Sherlock looked at her then, with a smile on his lips.

"You, Miss Hooper," He started, but Molly cut him off.  
"Call me Molly," she said, knowing full well that if she was called 'miss' one more time she would have to throw herself out of the moving car due to annoyance.

"Okay," Sherlock amended, "You, Molly Hooper, are running from something. And I know just the stuff to keep you away from whatever it is."

Molly swallowed hard, knowing full well that he was talking about drugs. But whatever he said sounded so appealing, especially with the way he sent shivers down her spine just by saying her name.

Plus, Molly Hooper was running from something: mediocrity and a boring life. And somehow she knew that by doing whatever Sherlock told her to do, she wouldn't have to deal with either of those.


End file.
